No Pasa Nada


I am well aware that neither half of Cyprus speaks Spanish. However, this week, I decided to take a leaf out of the Spaniards who were on my Cappadocia trip’s book and, instead of freaking out when things got stressful, shrug and let it pass.

No pasa nada.

Did I really fly into an airport in a “country” only recognized by Turkey as such with little plans other than where we were going to spend the night?

No soap in the hostel’s communal bathroom? We both forgot deodorant? There are no sheets? Did we just get handed a blanket that had been on the common room couch five minutes ago for lord knows how long?

No pasa nada.

Did this sketchy van we got a ride in that takes people to the beach drop us off at some touristy private hotel beach? Are we going to climb down a gravely hill and claim our own private seaside spot?

No pasa nada.

Did we really just wait all day for that deal our hostel owner was going to help us get on a rental car and end up in Kyrenia another night?

At least we got a better room.

And met some Californians who we invited along on our road trip.

And ended up with this baby.

Doesn’t it just scream, “WE’RE TOURISTS!” ?

No pasa nada.

Was I really traveling with someone who, being from Holland where they actually have legit public transportation and like bikes, doesn’t have his license? Does that mean I have to drive on the left side of the road, in the right hand seat of the car and through a country I have never been to before?

No pasa nada.

Am I really 4 feet tall as I look in this picture?

No pasa nada.

Was our beach bungalow really only given electricity a few hours a night? Were we still soap and deodorant-less?

No pasa nada.

We were smelling more delightful by the day.

Did we actually agree to take our 2 friends to the airport at 3 am? Did I really take a wrong turn down an absolutely terrifying gravel road to no-man’s land?

Yup, and they made their flight and we managed to take advantage of our early start and hit up Famagusta,

Lefkoşa (the only divided capital in the world – Euros or Lira? Greek or Turkish? Upscale shopping district or run-down village? The Republic of Cyprus or the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus? All that separated the two worlds was a narrow buffer zone and a stamp on our passports that we got as we walked across the boarder. Absolutely crazy.)

And St. Hilarion Castle.

No pasa nada.

Did the gas light start blinking just a little sooner than we’d planned? Did we get tahini and olive paste all over ourselves trying to make a cheap dinner parked outside a random shop? Did we really just partake in the sketchiest car return ever?

Park car in lot with only a few drops of gas remaining. Walk into hotel where we’d arranged the rental. Hand key to guy at front desk.

Should we sign something?


Do you need our names?


No pasa nada.

Did we just spend 12 lira for cherry juices at the airport that would’ve cost us less than half that on the outside?

No pasa nada. Drink up.

And we made it.

Home sweet Istanbul.


2 Responses to “No Pasa Nada”

  1. 1 Danielle

    Ahhh, Cassandra! I LOvE this recount of your trip!! I can so completely relate. And I really admire your attitude. I’m working on getting there, personally. 😉


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